


sodium hypochlorite

by Goose_Boy



Series: grave hags verse [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Child Geralt, Gen, Gun Violence, Murder, No beta we die like stregobor should, child eskel, child jaskier, child lambert, mafia witchers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27597164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goose_Boy/pseuds/Goose_Boy
Summary: His Mommy was like Cinderella, but without the stepmother or the evil sisters.
Series: grave hags verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016085
Kudos: 22





	sodium hypochlorite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saintsurvivor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintsurvivor/gifts).



> I blame saintsurvivor for the fact that this has taken on a life of its own

"You'll get it dirty again."

Soft voice and eyes softer still, little hands pulled back and kept to themselves where they hadn't been. Wouldn't be, he had the worst habit for touching things that weren't his. He knew better, touching things that didn’t belong to him left smudges from his fingers and dirt and sticky things behind where he shouldn’t have been to begin with. People didn’t like it when he touched things that weren’t his. 

Mommy never scolded him though, not where she possibly should have, just watched him and spoke with cooing reminders as she worked. Encouraged his curiosity even if it meant more time spent for her. Gentle words and she would trail around behind him eventually, had spray bottles of horrible smelling things that got rid of every stain and every mark. 

She was like magic, nothing could survive once his Mommy set her sights on it, not if she didn’t want it there. 

"Is it real?"

Such innocence in a question that betrayed the macabre thing he had reached for. Watched with wide blue eyes and bounced in place over where he wanted to touch but didn't, not yet, he wasn't supposed to. He wasn’t supposed to and Mommy wouldn’t say anything about it because she didn’t care, but  _ he _ would. Daddy would know even if nobody told him, Daddy would care, he would find out somehow and he would have something to say.

He always had something to say, but he wasn’t here. He wasn’t here, and Mommy wouldn’t care.

The appeal was strong though, bleached pale and hollow and it looked like it would be smooth. Curious eyes and a hungry mind, he rose up on his tiptoe to stare at the piece a little more. It wouldn’t be safe to hold, like it was paper thin and something he might break if he wasn’t careful. He had to be careful, Mommy insisted that he needed to  _ always _ be careful with things that weren’t his. 

"What do you think?"

Cold to the touch and almost soft beneath his fingertips, like if he could get it to thaw it might give. Like someon had put it in the freezer and forgotten about it, like the snowball he’d wrapped in foil and stuffed in his freezer while balanced on Geralt’s shoulders. This didn’t shine like that had, dull under the light but pale like someone had taken an eraser to it for too long. Like it’d been left in the sun for days. 

His hand slid across the surface, palm cupping its cheek as his fingers dipped into the hollow socket for its eye. It felt like stone, like the sort of rocks he found at the bottom of the creek, smoothed by the water and solid in his hand. He wanted to hold it, wanted to know how heavy it was, and Jaskier frowned at the want. Dipped his fingers further into its eye socket and tried to touch the back of the skull instead. 

“It wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t real.”

His hand was too small, fingers too short and they didn’t reach like he wanted, just wriggled in the dark instead. 

“My brilliant little poison prince.”

She hadn't put her gloves on yet, no sharp smelling chemicals that burned his nose and made him sneeze. A walk around instead, her usual sweep of the grand house to find the worst of the damage so she knew where to start. The library wasn't usually a horrible room, the Rivia boys didn't run in here because they knew better. Not when they had the whole rest of the house, but she checked anyway before moving on. 

A fleeting ruffle to his hair before she started to leave him behind, made him turn and scurry to keep up. 

There wasn't any fresh blood or gunpowder, nothing smelled out of place, but his Mommy took great care in keeping the place as spotless as she could. Nothing in the dining room, or any of the entertainment rooms, the big room with the grand staircase had coats hung up on their pegs and shoes in their homes after a quick check for the closet under the stairs. Everything was all tidy and contained like it should have been, which meant it would be easy today. There wouldn't be any bleach or vinegar, his Mommy would dance around with the sweeper instead and set him loose with the polishing rags. 

Maybe she would get done early, maybe they could go back to the park on 8th and watch the man with his guitar again.

“We clean the dining room and we get lunch.”

_ Or _ , they could knock out the dining room and then raid Mr. Rivia’s kitchen. 

Sharp little smile and he hurried after her, tread worn thin on his sneakers where he slid a little across the waxed hardwood flooring. She didn’t bother to wait, didn’t try to catch him, looked at him with laughing brown eyes and a wide grin that poked dimples into her cheeks as he tried to keep up. His Mommy crooned in the tongue of the Old Country, and Jaskier stumbled over himself trying to stay on her tail. 

Back through the living room and into the hall, past the grand staircase with its open closet door that she disappeared behind. Familiarity with the house was the only thing that kept him from colliding with the wall, and even then it was close.

She laughed at him, lyrical and warm as she ducked around the open arch for the dining room and left him to follow. 

“Mommy, it’s not dirty!”

“Ah, but!” The long table between them and she looked like a Queen, hands braced on the back of one of the chairs so she could watch him. Pretty with her brown curls and her browns eyes and her pink cotton shirt, his Mommy was Cinderella without the stepmother or the sisters. She cleaned and laughed and looked pretty in her faded clothes even when she stood beside Mr. Rivia in his pressed suits. Cinderella but happy, and without the mice. “It isn’t how it’s supposed to be, is it?”

There weren’t ever supposed to be mice, Mommy said mice weren’t supposed to be in houses that weren’t theirs.

Pout pulling at his mouth and Jaskier sighed, leaned against the table with a faint frown. There wasn’t any dust, but he could see finger smudges. They were probably his, even though he hadn’t touched anything in the room except for now. Maybe his fingers ran away from him, had a mind of their own and left little marks on things when they weren’t supposed to. 

Daddy said he was dirty, maybe that was what he meant. 

“The table hasn’t been cleaned.”

“ _ Exactly _ .”

There was more than that, he knew that because he knew her, but Jaskier just nodded when his Mommy grinned like that. Slid around the table until he could look at it from her side, because maybe it was worse there, maybe the few fingerprints he had seen were whole hand smudges from this side. Things didn’t look very different though, and maybe it was just that his Mommy was taller, that she could see things better.

“Mo-”

A pop from the back of the house, booming and loud as glass broke. As a window in the front of the house shattered from the outside and he didn’t have time to scream. Didn’t have time to  _ breathe _ , not when his Mommy pushed him suddenly, harsh hands where she had only ever been gentle before. The panel moved on the wall, the wood detailing on the lower half something more where a chunk of it slid open under her hand and he couldn’t even grab at her before she stuffed him inside. His head hit the wall, heart thundering in his little chest as she left him there, the fear on her face the only thing he could see as she stared for a second.

“Be quiet.”

The panel snapped shut and it was dark save for the slivers of light from the edges. Just enough that he could see in a thin crack, that he could hear as more popping sounds filled the air. As his Mommy tried to run from the room only to back peddle with a scream, a tall man he had never seen before yanking her back in by a fistful of her hair. A gun in his hand and that had been the sounds, that had broken the windows and put bullet holes in the walls. His Mommy fell to the floor where the man threw her and she sobbed aloud where Jaskier couldn’t. 

He couldn’t keep from crying, but no sound came out with his tears, like his voice had gone to his Mommy on the floor so she had extra help to scream. Like if she screamed and cried loud enough then someone would hear, but Jaskier knew better. 

“Please!”

On her belly and she tried to crawl away, his body gone cold as he couldn’t do anything but watch. As the man stood over her with his gun and his empty eyes like this was what he did every day instead of cleaning someone else’s house. 

“It’s nothing personal, Ma’am.”

“No, ple-”

He didn’t scream at the gunshot, but she didn’t either. 

There was a thick, wet sound instead from her chest, a gurgle like when his friend laughed around a mouthful of juice and it got stuck in his throat. That wasn’t juice on her lips though, and his Mommy didn’t laugh as bright blood bubbled up between her lips and spilled from the hole in her throat. She shook a little instead, like she did when she laughed but less, weak, and she stared at stared at the panel that hid Jaskier from view even though he could still see. He didn’t want to see anymore, he didn’t want to be here, they should have gone to the park on 8th, they shouldn’t have gotten on the bus that morning to go to Mr. Rivia’s. 

The tall man sighed down at his Mommy where she bled as the wet sounds stopped and Jaskier couldn’t breathe even though he could cry. He didn’t make a sound when the man left the room and he didn’t move when he heard the back door close. 

He didn’t move, but his Mommy didn’t move either, and he sat there long enough that his face stopped feeling wet. 

Long enough that the blood stopped spreading beneath her and her skin started to look like paper. Her mouth went pale and her eyes stopped looking quite so brown, the blood beneath her less like a puddle and more like spilled syrup. Like it had started to dry, and Jaskier could feel every pound of his heart in his chest. But his Mommy had said to be quiet, his body cold where he sat and stared and waited even though he knew she wouldn’t get up again. 

His chest tight like he’d been hugged too hard for too long, like his ribs were too small and his bones were going to make him pop like a balloon but he couldn’t stop breathing in short little bursts. The kind that made his head swim, made his vision spotty and fuzzy dark, but his Mommy didn’t blink and he couldn’t look away. 

The shadows moved eventually, grew longer where they stretched across the ground and he knew the sound of the front door opening and closing. 

“Oliwia?”

“Did she go home already?”

Mr Rivia and his friends, people that were safe that knew him, that loved him but he couldn’t move. Like his body had locked up and forgotten what it was supposed to do other than sit in the little space he’d been pressed into. 

“She might ha-”

“Dad!”

Eskel just inside the dining room and screaming, the boom of Mr Rivia’s voice telling the other boys to get back to the car even as his feet stomped heavy through the house. Hesitated where Eskel was before hurrying past and there, wide shouldered and grey haired, there stood the familiar mountain that was Mr Rivia. He ushered Eskel from the room immediately, silently, and Jaskier watched as he stood just like the tall man had over his Mommy. Except, where that man had looked empty, Mr Rivia looked like he wanted to cry. 

"I'm so sorry, my dear."

A quiet, whimpering sound because he couldn't help himself, it clawed out of his throat and cut across his tongue as it went. Both hands snapped over his mouth and Jaskier breathed faster, rabbit quick pounding of his heart in his chest as he started to let out muffled, keening whimpers. Desperate, scared little sounds that his fingers couldn’t catch and Jaskier wanted to scream. Couldn’t catch his breath to, but he would have if he could.

Mr Rivia heard him though,  _ heard him _ , and rose from where he had crouched in his expensive suit beside his Mommy to slide open the panel instead. 

There was heartbreak on his face, something so sorry and sad that Jaskier didn’t recognize but he understood because it soothed the screaming inside of him. He felt warm for the first time in hours where Mr Rivia touched him, big hands at his ribs where he eased Jaskier out of the hidden cupboard. 

Held against the man’s chest and a heavy, soothing hand pressed his face down against his broad shoulder. 

“Don’t look, cub.”

Rough rumbled words meant to calm him, and he felt warm where he hadn’t stopped crying, but he could see her pale body on the dining room floor as they left the room.


End file.
